


We Don't Need Songs

by TyrellMermaid



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3602490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyrellMermaid/pseuds/TyrellMermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa asks Margaery to sing her a song as they lay in bed together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Need Songs

Margaery sat astride Sansa wearing nothing but flowers in her hair.

Curious blue eyes searched for deep brown ones and Sansa reached out, pulling Margaery’s hand towards her. 

A rare moment of peace. 

Sansa closed her eyes as Margaery stroked her hair. 

“Sing me a song,” Sansa murmured. 

Margaery remained silent, thinking. 

Sansa opened her eyes and looked at her questioningly. 

“We don’t need songs,” Margaery said after a while, her hand at Sansa’s cheek again, the other entwined with Sansa’s own. “We have our own song. It’s this...” 

Margaery lent over Sansa and kissed her freckles, slow and soft. 

“And this...” She kissed her again, this time on the other side of her face.

“And this,” she breathed once more, as her hands moved down across Sansa’s neck to her chest and gently brushed over the pink tips of her breasts. 

Sansa’s breath shuddered and her hips moved underneath Margery, rocking her ever so slightly. Sansa reached up and took Margaery’s face in her hands, drawing her down towards her petal-pillowed lips. 

Kissing her gently once, twice, and then with rising passion a third time, Sansa drew herself up and wrapped Margery in her arms. 

A soft cry escaped from Margaery’s lips as Sansa kisses her neck; her face buried in the sweet rosewater smell of Margery’s hair. 

Bodies entwined, both their fingers travelled downwards; touching, teasing, stroking, exploring...

Margaery was the first to find an entrance. Sansa leant back, legs inviting whilst Margaery’s fingers explored Sansa’s secrets. Margaery thought just how beautiful the curve of Sansa’s neck was as she moaned and sighed and when her fingers escaped to flit over Sansa’s sweetness once more, Sansa bucked and shuddered and gasped “Kiss me, I want to sing.”

So Margaery kissed her, but not on the lips Sansa expected. And she licked and sucked and lavished all her attention on that small, sweet place until Sansa, the daughter of the North, melted, right there, in the Rose Queen’s bed.


End file.
